Catching On
by MerylJane
Summary: 17-year-old Claire has a question. "Imprinting's just some silly wolfish thing, right?" Quil has some explaining to do, and he had better do it clearly.


A/N: I've always read every story about Claire and Quil that I could find, and I am fascinated with their relationship (and their relationship's potential), so I figured I may as well write my own take on it. This being said, I do not believe that I have yet done them justice and I may have to try again. Comments and review of any sort are always just lovely! Oh, and, for this story to work properly, one has to assume that Quil has no restrictions about when he can tell Claire about imprinting.

Disclaimer: Aren't there parts of all of us (of varying sizes, of course) that wish we were Stephenie Meyer? I'll get over it, though.

**Catching On**

I knew he was a wolf (were-, shape-shifter, whatever), of course. I'd always known that.

Well, I'd known since I was five and Quil and I were playing in my backyard with my best friend, Latika. I had kindly and unthinkingly pointed out a spelling mistake (the word "box" with a "k" and an "s") she had made as we were practicing our newfound literacy with sticks in my sandbox. I felt really guilty for being such a know-it-all afterwards, though at the time I didn't understand that it was bad to point out such a simple thing. Honestly, I was trying to be helpful.

However, Latika misunderstood me (people are always misunderstanding me) and proceeded to inform me of my status as "the meanest, stupidest, ugliest, and dumbest, too, girl or boy in the wholest kindergarten everywhere forever." I can still remember the sinking, shaky feeling the words gave me, and I began to cry hysterically believing every word as a five-year-old will as Latika ran away. I was not angry with _her_, but disappointed with _myself_ for being so mean (and ugly and stupid, _and_ dumb), and I could not stop my tears.

Quil, on the other hand . . . _he_ was angry, though it was _completely_ irrational, obviously. Even more vividly than I remember the uniquely dreadful feeling, I remember the uniquely murderous look on Quil's face, one of pure anger. He began to shake (_sort of like I was shaking_, I thought strangely) and then, realization dawning in his eyes, he shouted frantically, "Claire! Go inside!" And then, just like that, Quil was gone. And in his place was the biggest animal I had ever seen.

A wolf.

Let's just say that we had quite a long conversation with my whole family (including Aunt Emily and Uncle Sam) that evening.

Yeah.

I wasn't even allowed to listen to most of it.

But, even though Quil was mostly up-front after that point, there were most definitely things I did not know.

"Claire's _seventeen_now, Quil. You can't just hide the fact that you imprinted on her forever. I mean, it's a fairly important concept and will be slightly integral to the rest of her life," I overheard Seth saying sarcastically, but at the same time very seriously, his voice carrying from the kitchen to the doorway where I stood.

I knew the word "imprint" as a noun, but I couldn't place it in this context. Imprint _on someone_?

I remember he was sure I'd be terrified when I first saw him in wolf form. But I couldn't be. In fact, sometimes I liked him _better_ as a wolf.

Because it was impossible for me to feel anything but completely safe when I was with Quil. There was just omnipresent warmth (literal and figurative) when I was near him.

Part of my comfort stemmed from the fact that, from the time I was five years old, Quil was not reluctant to tell me anything. There was nothing he'd hold back, which was one of the most beautiful things about him.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and greeted the caller with, "Nessie?" I stepped away from the kitchen door, where I could faintly hear Seth continue to lecture Quil, and walked outside.

"I have a question," I jumped in, even though she was the one who called me, without giving her time to say anything. Nessie was Jacob's . . . girlfriend. And she was half-vampire, too. It was a bit of a complicated (and dare I say ironic) concept, considering the pack's primary job was to ward off the "leeches."

Nessie was one of my best friends (better than Latika, of course . . . ha!), but I was never quite close enough with her to understand everything about her.

She preferred to communicate, um, non-verbally, which freaked me out. So when she called on her phone, it tended to come as a bit of a shock.

Oh, and she knew absolutely _everything_. It could get quite irritating at times, but, at other times (like right now!) it was rather handy.

"Sure," she said quickly and smoothly, and I heard her giggling and decided Jake was distracting her in the background. I took a brief moment to feel jealous of her for the connection that seemed almost like magic that she shared with Jake.

"Renesmee," I began, using her full name, which I loved. "What exactly are the implications of 'imprinting on' someone?" I asked carefully.

She gasped, which startled me because the thing about half-vampires is that they're pretty difficult to shock. "I'm hanging up now," she said concisely and kindly, after a moment. "Talk to Quil, Claire. And listen to him, now." Her voice was so full of authority that I automatically did as I was told, re-entering my aunt's house and making my way to the kitchen with a sort of nervousness. However, Nessie's voice hadn't sounded ominous. In fact, though she was serious, she seemed a little bit excited and possibly relieved.

_Imprinted, imprinted, imprinted,_ I repeated in my head, trying to make sense of the word or guess its apparent significance to my life.

Quil saw me and smiled. He didn't know I was coming over today; I had wanted to surprise him. Lately, the smile on his face when he saw me was bringing me even more joy than it usually did. Okay, for the past three years or so, his smile had been making me feel different. A kind of joy that still felt new, even after such a long time.

And, honestly, he'd been giving me strange looks recently, too, and his eyes would linger on my body in a different way than I was used to. Somehow, though, these looks, which he obviously thought were well-concealed and surreptitious, made me feel satisfied and happy in a different way.

Everything was different, but the changes were subtle enough that they felt natural and right.

But I was probably just projecting all of this anyway.

It was just in my head. It was _all_ in my head.

"Hey, Claire-bear! What's up?" he asked, trying to be casual. But I saw in his eyes what looked like stress and maybe pain. I wanted the pain to stop. And the stress, for that matter.

I tried to convince myself on at least a weekly basis that I was not in love with Quil Ateara. Because being in love with the wolf-boy who had been my best friend since I was practically a baby seemed too weird. However, I was currently at a point in my cyclic ponderings where I was disregarding that fact and instead focusing how beautiful his eyes were.

It was silly. It was an unrequited crush. To Quil, _I was a sister._

That's exactly what I was screaming mentally to myself as I grabbed his shoulder lightly and pulled him out of the kitchen and away from Seth, out to porch and then, ignoring his protests of, "Whoa, Claire, where are you taking me?" began, "I know I shouldn't have been eavesdropping and I wasn't – I promise – but I _overheard_ and . . . what does it mean to imprint on someone?"

He looked . . . caught. Found out. To use a cliché, his appearance was akin to that of a deer in the headlights of a car. "What exactly did you hear?" Thankfully, he wasn't angry with me, but he did seem nervous. He grabbed my arm gently and I automatically felt comfortably warm in the light rain that was beginning to freeze around us. Warmth spread through me and for the thirty-fourth time that month (it was only the seventeenth of November), I felt the urge to kiss him.

Instead, I answered rapidly, brushing off the silly feeling, "Oh, just that you imprinted . . . _on_ me? Apparently, it's supposed to affect me in some way, but Seth was using his sarcastic voice and I'm never entirely sure when he's being serious, you know. I mean, who knows with Seth, really? Just, you know how I am with words. I just like to be informed, you know? It's nothing big, I'm sure. Just, you know, some silly wolf thing, right?" I tend to ramble and overuse the phrase "you know" when I'm talking about something that _is_ important and _will_ affect me.

His gaze was becoming more intense, and I shivered slightly. Quil felt it and said, "You're cold," in an attempt to distract us from the matter at hand, and glancing at the door to the busy where this conversation could not be held.

I knew we were both lying to each other.

We never lied to each other. Except . . .

"Quil," I prompted carefully and we sat down on the porch steps with a sort of silent decision. He brought his hand to my cheek, cradling it just as carefully as I had spoken his name. I wished we could stop being careful and he would just explain whatever the heck imprinting was. That, or just go ahead and snog me. Whichever suited him best. Finally, after just staring at my face for one of those extended periods of time, he chose the former.

Sort of.

"Claire, you know I love you," he said. _Oh, no._ Maybe imprinting _was_ a bad thing.

"I love you, too, Quil." He nodded slightly, seeming somewhat encouraged by this obvious known fact.

_What's imprinting?_I beseeched him with my eyes, wishing I had Nessie's gift.

"Imprinting, Claire, is . . . well, it's just . . . you know Sam and Emily?" _Um, considering we're currently on their porch, why yes, yes I do. _I didn't answer the rhetorical question, though, but just stared, waiting for him to continue. "And Kim and Jared? And Jacob and Renesmee."

_Why was he mentioning the three best couples in the universe? Was he trying to _kill_ me?_

"Is this honestly relevant?" I asked.

He nodded slowly.

I wanted elaboration. He understood that, and I was feeling a bit giddy that I had succeeded in communication.

"Well, you were right, about it being a freakish wolf thing. Imprinting is something that can happen sometimes with us," he explained, referring to the "us" of his pack. "It happened with Sam, and Jared, and Jake."

Nothing he said was making any sense.

"But, Quil . . . you said you imprinted on _me_," I blurted out, unbelievably confused. He nodded, looking, if possible, even more anxious. He didn't explain, so I tried a question. "Who did Sam, Jared, and Jake imprint on?"

He looked confused for a moment, but then was catching on, at least, to the fact that I didn't get it. "Claire, imprinting is like . . . gravity. When a person imprints on someone, they're drawn to that person . . ."

_Oh._

I guess I should have known Quil was only my best friend because he was obligated by some absurd wolfish magic. I should have known he only hung around me because he _had_ to. I literally had to choke back the tears that were burning in my throat and causing an awful twisting sensation. No one ever hung around me because they wanted to. I was always the one left alone in the sandbox.

"So," I was finally able to get out, "you never answered my question about the other wolves. What is it, like, you finally work up the courage to tell the kid you never actually wanted to be their friend and then you break the spell and you're free of them? Is that what it's like?" I was feeling shaky again and I knew _this_ unique feeling would stay raw in my memory forever. I couldn't help the anger that slipped into my words.

And it didn't make sense. Why was he talking about Emily, Kim, and Nessie too? They weren't members of the pack.

But, when I worked up the strength to look up and meet Quil's eyes, I saw not the relief I had convinced myself to expect, but despair and heightened anxiety. "No, no, no, Claire! You don't get it! I promise! It's not like that! I didn't explain it right!" he exclaimed frantically, clutching my face again, this time with both hands.

I squirmed away from his grasp, untrusting and confused again.

But I nodded to him expectantly, allowing him the chance to explain better. "Imprinting is just this _amazing_ way of finding your . . . soul mate, Claire. It's like, when you first see the person you are meant to spend your entire life with, something inside a werewolf's body makes him, or her, completely bound to the person. Jake explains it as love at first sight, but much more powerful. _So powerful_. He imprinted on Renesmee and Sam imprinted on Emily and Jared on Kim. It's just . . . _they_ were close to the same age when it happened."

Although I knew Renesmee and Jacob had definitely _not _always been the same age, I let it slide, knowing he was being as purely honest as possible.

My primary anger completely forgotten, it was my turn to stare at him. I laughed at his joke for a moment, but it was a dry, forced laugh because I wanted to _kill_ him for being so mean. Who knew he was capable? Still, there was something in his eyes that told me that he may not even want to hurt me. Maybe he wasn't even joking at all . . . why would he?

_No, I couldn't let myself think that._

"It's not April yet, is it?" The air was reluctant to choke through my lips.

_He_ looked hurt now, and I could hardly imagine why.

Except I could.

"Quil," I said quietly after what may have been minutes, focusing on making some hardcore eye contact, "Are you . . . are you serious?"

He nodded and it was the truest nod I could have imagined.

And so I kissed him when I wanted to (thirty-fifth time's a charm), because I could sense that he was about to start assuring me that I didn't have to.

----

A/N: I'm so lame, ending practically all of my stories with kissing. Ew. Haha. I guess I didn't really take that too seriously. The ending needs some work.

Please review. Please review. I love you anyway as a child of God, but my love for you will definitely grow if you review. Por favor.


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